


Till the light of dawn

by heavensweetheart



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Romance, Canon Rewrite, Drama & Romance, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Fluff and Smut, French Kissing, Gentle Kissing, I laugh in the face of slut-shaming, Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, My First Smut, Neck Kissing, POV First Person, Romance, Rough Kissing, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensweetheart/pseuds/heavensweetheart
Summary: A much more mature (and hot) rewrite of the second half of Book 3 inspired by a series of writing prompts.
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 186





	1. Trust

**Author's Note:**

> At first, I just wanted to write smut for expanding my writing horizons. And I still want to do that, but now this is also a silent protest against the antis who were cancelling Cassandra Clare for writing teenagers having implied sex in her books. (Rebellion! Rebellion against censorship! Rebellion against poor reading comprehension and Cancel Culture!) So I decided to write Zutara smut with the use a few writing prompts that I found. Some of them from Zutara Week's Tumblr blog, some of them not. 
> 
> Also, I'll make sure to give some pretty solid hints through the fic, but just so we're clear: all characters are aged up exactly 4 years from their canon counterparts. From oldest to youngest:
> 
> Zuko and Sokka: 20-yo.  
> Suki: 19-yo.  
> Katara: 18-yo.  
> Aang and Toph: 16-yo.
> 
> Characterization might differ from their canon counterparts as well due to the different levels of maturity, but that's pretty much all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara has a rather unhealthy way to cope with grief after her encounter with Yon Rha.

**Katara**

When the anger is gone, there’s just numbness.

There isn’t the scalding desire to hurt and destroy anymore, the stabbing, burning red in front of my eyes that I couldn’t distinguish from fire or blood; just a strange sleep-like state where nothing can touch you, neither you _want_ it to touch you.

It’s horrible, but I can’t escape.

It feels icy, but not foreign, like now I belong to that coldness and those shadows. To that unfeeling wind frozen in time.

I didn’t want to feel this, I wanted to remain angry. I wanted the cold to come from the tears leaving my eyes, not from within me. I hug myself. (Is that enough for me to warm up?)

The sunset’s colors still seem too blank. They are colors that I would normally love, purplish blue that would remember me to the Water Tribe, to the clothes that my mom used to sew…

I sense the raindrops falling, but I don’t feel them running down my skin.

My heart contracts; it’s a quick beat but enough to unseal the unbearable pain. My eyes fill with tears. They _boil_ against the rainwater.

Yon Rha couldn’t ruin the rain for me, could he? He couldn’t… He couldn’t take something else away from me…

“Katara?”

I almost scream at the sound of my own name, (have I been trembling like this all along?)

I stare at Zuko for a few moments, trying to regain a share of composure before speaking. He’s standing fairly away to give me space, not looking directly at me for too long, as if to give me more privacy. Seeing him doesn’t awakens rage in me anymore – or maybe it does and it’s just quietened by this… _shaking_. This vulnerability.

This _hopelessness_.

Everything is too blurry, I can’t tell what I am feeling. Or thinking.

“Yes?”

I never thought a sole word could sound so waving. My fingers (slowly) reach for my wobbling lips.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

_How am I feeling?_

It takes me a few moments to realize I said _that_ out loud.

“How. Am. I. _Feeling_?” (Well, lo and behold, shouting can do _wonders_ to keep your voice from shaking!)

I’m pretty sure my eardrums must be bleeding for my own screech, but whatever! The anger feels _good_. It’s what I wanted, something fiery. Something red-hot rising inside me to push the cold away, to give me strength to hurt, to claw, to _never_ be weak again! Not like I was with Yon Rha! _Neither_ of the times! I’m not the helpless little girl whose mother he stole, I’ve changed! Ten years of pain have made me strong! 

“How do you _think_ I am feeling? I just met my mother’s killer, for fuck’s sake!” My shouts surpass the discordant sound of the rain.

It’s not enough; the rage doesn’t heats me enough. I need something else… More fire.

I stalk over to face Zuko, the wet ground and the fallen tree leaves splash and ruffle beneath my boots.

The rain is a thick, blinding curtain, but I can see Zuko crystal clear. Granted to him, he maintains the prince-like _“I’m so above this”_ façade _so_ well. He stares at me impassively, not even blinking while I come close. For a moment, I wonder how his handsome face would look covered in scratches, and then I decide to leave that for another occasion.

Once I stand in front of him, looking as intent and emptily as I can mixture into his eyes, I smile like a lunatic.

“Well, look at what you have done, Zuko! You managed to traumatize a girl even _more_ than what she already was! It’s just _unbelievable_ that you don’t have a girlfriend yet!”

A muscle pulses in his jaw.

It feels nice, but it’s gone too fast. _I want more!_

“Katara…”

“Was this your plan all along?” I continue, fighting a sickening feeling tying my stomach in tight knots. The corners of my lips pierce my cheeks. It hurts. “To bring me here just to push me over the edge? I mean, it wouldn’t be the _first_ time you took advantage of my naivety.”

His jaw pulses again and he gulps. I smirk.

“Katara…”

“Like, seriously, how stupid can I be?” My voice sounds broken even to my own ears. “Coming to hunt a Fire Nation soldier with the _Fire Prince_?” I laugh; it’s a cutting and inhuman sound. “But it makes some sense after all, maybe you just need a _bully_ to track down a _murderer_.”

For a second, it looks like anger _is_ finally going to take the best of him. I sneer when it doesn’t.

He just fucking _closes_ his eyes! His chest heaves with a deep breathe.

“It’s not going to work.” His eyes open simply and calmly. I want to claw them out!

“ _What’s_ not going to work?” I demand.

“What you’re trying to do,” he indicates as if it was the most _obvious_ thing in the world. “I’m not going to fight with you, Katara. Not now.”

I angrily stomp my feet into the ground. It splashes against the ponds. “ _Why the hell not?_ ” I shriek.

The rain keeps falling, soaking us wet.

“I’m not going to argue with someone in your… state,” he concludes so softly it’s almost nauseous, “I won’t let you hurt yourself, or use me to do so.”

_This guy – !_

I give another step to him, our chests nearly brush together. He exudes warmth even in the frostiness of the storm. ( _Stupid firebender!_ ) I glare, staring directly into his eyes.

“Don’t act so high and righteous all of a sudden!” I yell. We’re so close his breathe crashes against my face, I can bet the same happens with mine against his. “Where was all this _decency_ when we were at Ba Sing Se? Haven’t you always being _obsessed_ with your honor? Well, news flash, princeling: you’re the most _dishonorable_ person that I’ve _ever_ met! You spent _months_ as some super-villain wannabe and you’re hypocrite enough to want to pass as a gentleman _now_? I don’t think so!”

 _Don’t look at me with kind eyes_ , I think, still staring at his eyes. (What’s up with their insanely bright color? Did his parents try to have a baby made of _gold_?) (Is that a thing among royalty?)

_Don’t speak so gently. Don’t be so polite. Don’t be so warm._

He does not obey my thoughts.

I growl and yank him down to my face by his shirt collar. “Damn it! Fucking _react_ to something!”

The more I search in his eyes, there’s no rage, nor sadness, no sign that my words stung. _It’s not fair._

“You have any idea of how unfair this is!” The anger keeps growing but it still isn’t enough, the iciness still creeps into me, flowing through my veins, dulling my hands holding Zuko’s shirt. _More fire! I need more fire!_

“Just who do you think you are to be so calm and collected right now?” I say. “Aren’t you the angry jerk who used to follow us around the world? Where’s all that anger now, huh? It’s not fair that I’m the only one that feels like… _this_! It isn’t fucking fair! Do you have any idea how it is like?” My screams silence the rain, my nails dig into my palms through the fabric. “To be so angry while the rest of the world is _just_ _fine_?”

“Yes,” he answers, fast and sincerely. His breathe caresses over my lips. “Actually, I do.”

My fists clench tighter on his shirt. _Why you –_

I crash our mouths together.

My hands fly to trap the sides of his jaw. It’s strong, but not cutting; his skin is smooth and it _burns_ mine despite the ice-cold drops dripping over it. His lips beat at the rhythm of his pulse and it increases the more I move my own against them, parting his mouth open. He tastes like rainwater and salt.

His temperature grows, too, I can feel it with our chests – our _wet_ chests – pressed together. With our clothes so thinned by the rain it almost feels like my breasts were directly against his pecs. I curve my back and arch myself into him, chasing the sensation.

The cold is finally drifting away. All of Zuko… it _burns_ me.

It’s as if my heart was pumping boiling blood, which fluently coursed through my body, awakening it. Making me fiercer, enough to continue to _consume_ Zuko’s mouth, feeling my own lips grow inflamed and throbbing.

His pulse is now beating in my own throat and it is… _life_. Emotion.

_This is what I wanted. Something red-hot rising inside me to push the cold away._

It’s a daze when Zuko pushes _me_ away.

(Though, _“pushing”_ is probably too strong of a word.) (He only grabs my shoulders and unglues me from him; holding me to keep me at _half_ -arm length.) Our mouths separate with a wet sound.

Neither of us says anything for a few long moments. If I’m shocked by the abrupt end of the kiss, Zuko is just _dumbfounded_. Each of his blinks is a hard squeeze of his eyes, and his mouth is slack open. ( _And_ swollen, it looks redder in contrast with his pale skin.) (And shiny.)

I murmur, “What…”

“Katara, you don’t want to do this.” His voice is somehow shaky, breathless, _and_ firm.

I glare at him. “I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” he retorts, almost sternly. “Trust me on this one.”

 _Is he for real?_ “I don’t _trust_ you!”

“Don’t kiss me then!”

I glare harder. So much that my eyes are only narrow slits. “Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m willing to do this with you? Don’t boys only want sex anyways? I’m saving you a whole lot of work here.”

He narrows his eyes back, they ablaze with anger. “ _I’m_ not _that_ kind of guy. I told you, I won’t let you hurt yourself. Much less if you’re going to use me to do so.”

“Oh, so now you have _dignity_?”

“Katara, look at me.”

He tips my chin up with the tip of his fingers. The touch is surprisingly nice.

“What you’re feeling – the _pain_ that you’re feeling – isn’t going to go away with more pain. I know that from a fact, okay? You’re right, I _was_ dishonorable. The pain I carried made me do hurtful things for the others _and_ me. You think I _liked_ making everybody that I met to hate me? And treating all the ones that gave a damn about me like they were trash? And freaking _screaming_ more than what I _breathed_? I didn’t! And maybe I _do_ am a hypocrite for not letting you do what I did in the first place, but at least I’m not turning my back on others anymore. I’m sick of that shit! Keep hating me all that you want after this, I won’t let you do something you’re going to regret. I won’t let you taint yourself.”

His fingers disappear from under my chin.

Yet, the tears reappear itching my eyes. _Don’t… be so sweet… all of a sudden._

My tears mix with the raindrops. When I cling to Zuko again, it’s only for muffling my sobs against his shirt.

 _I miss my mom_ , I think _._

_I miss my mom, I miss my mom, I miss my mom._

Zuko’s arms surround my waist and steady me against him. The sound of the rain falls into the background beneath my cries.


	2. Author's Note

**_ Author’s Note _ **

**Hey, everyone!**

**I know it’s a little early on the fic for uploading an author’s note, but there’s just something I need to tell you.**

**First, thanks for all your support, I’m super excited that you’re liking the story so far! But I also came to tell you that my life hasn’t been easy recently and maybe it doesn’t help that I’m overloading myself with writing and art projects, so it might take some time before I update again.**

**Lately, I’ve been having some more than stressful days; I’ve been repeatedly bullied on social media for a number of topics, form country’s (Venezuela’s) situation, to my family’s personal situation, to my favorite book authors. (It makes no sense; I know.) The BLM movement is somewhat triggering for me because the same people that bully me for being Latina claim themselves “anti-racists”, and granted, maybe they are _not_ racist; they are just xenophobes. I just can’t stop seeing the hypocrisy and I don’t want to relate such horrible thoughts to such a noble cause. **

**All of that combined with my sleeping troubles gives me some awful migraines that certainly don’t get better if I keep pushing myself to work – (even if it is for writing and drawing, two of the things I love to do the most.)**

**What I’m trying to say is that I wanted to keep coming up with new chapters and new stories for keep bringing some joy even during the bad times… and also for trying to reach Cassandra Clare’s level of writing two books at a time.**

**But I guess I just can’t be Cassie Clare.**

**I realize now that I need to give myself some more space and treat myself kinder so, I’m going to use a little of that space for organizing my thoughts and then come back with more chapters. Just… when I’m ready.**

**I need some time to finish certain things and schedule new projects. Maybe with a new, more ordered agenda, I’ll find time to come up with new fanarts inspired on my current fics.**

**I’m not going to think much of it now, I just came to tell you that I’m glad you have enjoyed the fic so far, and that I hope you’ll keep enjoying it when I come back again. Thanks again for your support, it means the world to me!!**

**Bye!!**

**Hugs and kisses!!**


	3. Embers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are human. They have needs. *waggles eyebrows*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless be Nacho Mendoza and his song Bailame for teaching how to describe the female figure without objectifying it!

**Katara**

It’s not that I _can’t_ sleep; I just don’t want to.

I don’t want to have nightmares. Every time I close my eyes, I either see Yon Rha’s aged, crumpled face or his younger, _vicious_ one. I don’t even see my mom. Confronting him didn’t make me feel closer to her, it only made me relate him more to my memory of her.

Spirits, I’m an idiot! No wonders Zuko had to put me a stop before I did anything even more stupid.

I push myself up from the bed, letting my eyes roam briefly through the ruby red silk sheets in appreciation. (They’re pretty, that’s enough to distract myself if it’s only for one second.)

Zuko’s Ember Island house has aged well despite the lack of maintenance, the rooms are eerily empty without the furniture – save for the beds – but they don’t feel… well… haunted-like.

(It’s not that I thought somebody had truly _died_ in here, I’m just saying that _maybe_ Firelord Ozai had made a deal or two with a few Dark Spirits in his life.) (Maybe.)

I should probably stop thinking those things about him, it feels… _traitorous_ to Zuko. Or hurtful. Either way, I don’t want to go around having bad thoughts about my friend’s family.

Even if his family is our enemy.

I scratch the back of my head. _It’s complicated._

I stand up from the bed and get dressed to go to the courtyard. The wind is cold outside, but nicely-cold. The kind of cold that goes away just by embracing yourself and getting lost on the landscape. It’s so different from this afternoon’s. Besides, the wind has cleared the clouds from the sky! There are only beautiful, sparkling stars shining in the dark blue sky. It’s _gorgeous_!

“What are you doing?”

I jump back in surprise. And I _really_ have to look around to find…

“The hell are _you_ doing up there?” I almost have to shout for Zuko to hear me from the house’s roof – where apparently he’s _just_ lounging.

He shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“And you _had_ to climb up to the roof because of that?” I wonder.

He shrugs again. “I like this part of the house.”

“How did you climb there in the first place?”

“Well, first I ran up through the walls and…”

“Okay, stop.” I put a hand in front of me, trying to stop myself from imagining all the circus acrobatics he had to go through. “Forget that I asked.” _Geez, is there_ something _this guy can’t do?_

He smirks proudly but not arrogantly, thin strands of the bangs covering his forehead flow with the wind. _So_ unlike his former self. When did he change so much? In the few weeks he returned to the Fire Nation?

Huh. Who could have guessed spending time away from Team Avatar would make him want to hang out with us?

“You want me to come down?” he asks. “It would be easier to talk if we are at the same eye level.”

 _Or voice level_ , I think; my throat already feels raspy for all the loud speaking.

“No, I got a better idea,” I say. “Stay right where you are.”

I approach one of the walls covered in vines. Pass my fingers over the leaves.

Close my eyes.

Breathe.

It’s almost shocking how _easy_ it is to detangle the plants – especially when they look so much like a giant, messy granny knot. Guiding the water through them, I shape them into a swing-like stand, where I step and then I command them to take me up.

 _Such an efficient elevator!_ I jump to the roof once it takes me to its same height.

Beyond his eyes widened in comprehension, Zuko doesn’t seem all that surprised by my display of plant-bending. What, that wasn’t impressive enough for him? Does he know how many plant-benders there are in the world? _Three!_ Including myself. Which I didn’t know until _this_ year, because _that’s_ how rare they are.

“How did you do that?” he wonders.

I walk to sit next to him. “It’s a waterbending thing.”

“You were bending the water _inside_ the plants?”

“How did you guess?”

He shrugs _again_. “That’s just logic.”

I _harrumph_ and furrow my lips to a corner of my mouth. (Sure, he isn’t arrogant anymore, but he’s still too matter-of-factly knowledgeable.) (It would be annoying, if he didn’t look so friendly and welcoming out of nowhere.)

But I have already said it _mustn’t_ have been out of nowhere…

“Mind if I ask you something?” I query.

“What?”

“How did you…” my voice trails off, unsure how to proceed. “How did you become so… _nice_? I mean, so out of the blue and...”

“Is that your way of telling me I _wasn’t_ nice before?”

“You _weren’t_ nice before.”

I almost laugh at his disgruntled face.

“How forward,” he deadpans. “But I deserve it.” He clears his throat. “I… um… went through some… epiphanies while I was at the Fire Nation.”

“Epiphanies?” I repeat.

“I… realized some things.” His gaze gets lots into the night sky. “I spent plenty of time alone. I guess I should be thankful for that, it forced me to think about certain things.”

“What do you mean, ‘you spent plenty time alone’? Didn’t you hang out with Azula?”

I want to _swallow_ the question back as soon as it leaves my mouth.

Zuko grimaces. “She’s not exactly what I would call a pleasant company.”

I blush. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have mentioned her!”

“It’s okay. She’s my sister after all.”

I mutter, “Right…”

 _I really am an idiot, aren’t I? How come I ruined the conversation in just_ one _phrase?_

“Stop it.”

Zuko’s voice snaps me back to attention. “What?”

“Blaming yourself. Whatever it is that you’re blaming yourself for.”

I _would_ try to contradict him, if his answer hadn’t hit so close to home. “So you’re a mind-reader now, too?”

“No,” he answers simply. “I just recognize guilt when I see it.”

I can’t decide if I should frown from annoyance or sadness. I settle for saying: “You’re not actually _‘seeing’_ me.”

He turns his head then to do _exactly_ that.

It’s hard for my eyes not to fall directly into his; they shine even in the night. Not like stars or lights, but like actual gold. Like real torches blazing. I wonder if this is how moths feel when they get fixated with the light, as if there was an invisible line pulling them to it, and taking away their urge to fight back.

“I’m looking at you _now_.”

I blink. And then frown. “No joke.”

He grins then, averts my gaze and blushes; and it’s just such an innocent expression it’s impossible to keep scowling at him.

“By the way,” he says, “you didn’t tell me what you were doing up.”

Now _I’m_ the one to avoid his eyes. My head whips in the other direction. “I… uh…”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that,” I assure. (Because it isn’t.) (We are friends now, right?) (It’s not that I don’t want to talk to my friend.)

“I…,” I bite my lip, “was having trouble for sleeping.”

Zuko’s gaze falls, “I see.”

The silence flows between us with a soft breeze.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. But thanks for asking. And… I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…” I trail off, “ _stuff_.”

 _Lots_ of stuff. _Kissing_ stuff.

“Oh.” He looks embarrassed, but also unsure, like he didn’t know if _he_ should be the one apologizing. (Apologize for what? He _really_ needs to stop thinking the worst about himself.) “Don’t worry about that, you were upset.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have just thrown myself to you,” I say, and I swear I _feel_ him blushing next to me. “I promise I don’t always go around using sex as a stress reliever,” I assure. “ _I’m_ not _that_ kind of girl.”

“I never would believe that you were,” he says. “But… maybe you’re not the only one at fault for it. I should have known meeting… _him_ would affect you.” His voice turns into a guilt-ridden whisper, “I should have protected you better.”

“You couldn’t protect me from something like that, Zuko,” I concede. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it was. Even if you first told me about Yon Rha, _I’m_ the one that decided to go look for him. It was _my_ decision, the consequences are on me.”

He doesn’t speaks for a few seconds. Even when my eyes are lost into the ocean in the distance, I can feel his staring holes into my profile.

Even Zuko’s _gaze_ burns.

“By the way…” I decide to break the sudden charged silence like he did before, “you didn’t tell _me_ either what you were doing up here?”

He smirks, but looks away, as if he was happy but embarrassed that I asked.

“I like to come here and think.”

“Have you ever tried keeping a diary?” I offer. “You could do all the thinking without having to run through walls and stuff.”

“I’m not very good with words,” he admits.

“Really?” I widen my eyes to emphasize the irony into the question. “Never would have guessed that!”

He glares at me through the corner of his eye, but it’s only half-hearted, and I laugh because I just can’t help it.

Zuko grins again watching me laugh, which makes my attention to fall to his really nice-shaped lips – (that I’ve noticed before.)

My eyes fall further down to the line of his jaw. It seems _so_ surreal that I was holding it only a few hours ago. (Not that I’m really complaining, though.)

Thinking about it – and despite the fact that it was _me_ the one that did most of the work – Zuko’s not a bad kisser. I wonder how the whole thing would’ve been if it had been more… reciprocal.

Not that I’m thinking about kissing him again! I just wouldn’t be _completely_ against the idea. Like I said, nice lips, nice jaw.

Taut, thick neck; _hella_ broad shoulders, hard pecs, even harder-looking abs, amazingly toned arms. _Fantastic_ arms. His biceps bulge even with his arms just the slightest bended, propping him on his elbows.

“What?”

Guess I stared too much for too long.

Either way, I can’t bring myself to be bothered by it. Or look away.

“Nothing,” I say. “How much weight do you lift?”

“165 pounds,” he replies in a beat. “Why?”

165 pounds.

I weigh 110.

He could lift _me_ up _so_ easy… 

“Curiosity.” My fingers drum with interest over the roofing.

**Zuko**

_Katara has a weird sense of curiosity_ , I think.

But looking at her blue eyes roaming all over my arms and torso, with a glint that matches the smirk on her lips – she _has_ plump lips – I can’t shake off the feeling that I’m missing something…

Maybe I’m just imagining it.

I don’t get why I’m suddenly so focused on her lips, though.

Well… maybe I do.

Maybe it’s because of the kiss, the recall of it – which I’ve been getting more often than I would like to admit. (And it’s only being a _day_.)

_Gods, I look like a friggin’ virgin!_

I shouldn’t be thinking about all these stuff. Katara was emotionally shook at the time, and people do crazy things when they are like that; and we have greater problems to worry about other than me getting turned on by a single kiss…

I mean – !

I shouldn’t have said that.

_Stop thinking about sex, stop thinking about sex, stop thinking about sex._

Instead, I think about Katara as she normally is. Sparkling blue eyes. Innocent smiley face. Flowing hair. Sweet. Compassionate. Sarcastic. Caring. Brave. Honest.

_Sex, sex, sex._

What the hell is _wrong_ with me? How can I spin back to _sex_ just for thinking about… my friend?

(We _are_ friends, right?) (Should I ask?)

“Isn’t it a little odd to call an island ‘ _Embers_ ’?” she asks all of a sudden. Probably for directing the conversation to safer topic. “It doesn’t sounds very…”

“Destructive?”

(It’s just a guess.)

“I was going to say _fiery_ , but sure,” she shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

I smirk due to the surrealism of the situation.

“This island is supposed to be a magical place,” I say, recalling Lo and Li’s speech. “One where you let go of your former self to rebirth as your new, true one. Like the phoenix that rebirths from the ashes. Embers.”

“Have _you_ found your true self by visiting the island?”

“Probably,” I admit. “This is where I realized I wasn’t on the right path when I came back to the Fire Nation. It’s also where I realized things weren’t really working between my girlfriend and me.”

“Your… Your what now?”

“Nothing.”

Perhaps is better not to mention Mai for the time being. Maybe at another time, when the memory of Katara’s kiss isn’t so fresh in both our brains.

And… we’re back to the kiss. 

“Okay.” Katara clears her throat. “I… um… I should probably go. I didn’t mean to disrupt your night.”

“You didn’t disrupt anything,” I say, grinning a little at her choice of words. “I told you, I just like to come here to think.”

“Sounds like a good night plan to me,” she says. “But you’ll probably want some alone time for doing all that thinking.”

She stands up. “Thanks anyways. I think talking did make me feel better.”

“Any time.”

Her smile is oddly not a smile but heartening as one. Her mouth is straight, lips soft, but both of their corners are pronouncedly curled upwards, almost forming actual spirals. It’s a little funny, and endearing.

Her hips have an innate sway as she walks away, it’s the most notorious for how slim her waist is. The wind blows her hair behind her shoulders; it makes it look longer than what it actually is, and give me space to see her round ass as she…

I push my gaze away. (I’m the _worst_!)

***

Granted I didn’t get much sleep last night – (I rarely do) – but I can’t allow myself to skip my morning workout. I remember all the _un_ -training back at the Earth Kingdom; it was fucking _horrible_! I got sloppy as hell, I’m flabbergasted I could even light up those lamps for Jin! _Never again_ , I swore. Never again will I spend so much time without practicing my bending and training. (I still shudder when I remember how much muscle I lost.)

Besides, it relaxes me. It’s only when I’m going through my routine that I feel myself breathe, even if it’s with effort, like now doing pushups with one arm.

Everybody else is still asleep inside the house, so there’s no one to interrupt me. Or being grossed out by all the sweat. Or seeing me without my shirt on – which is the worst possible of the options for me, personally.

(I just don’t like taking off my shirt, okay?)

Switch arms, another 20 pushups.

Plank.

Abdominals.

I use one of the trees outside as a punch-bag. It shakes as though on an earthquake with each hit of my fists.

Then I go for a run around the beach. 10 rounds.

The oxygen _burns_ inside my lungs and throat, it’s _so_ refreshing. 

Satisfied with the training and feeling the corners of my lips curving up, I come close to the water, fill my hand with it and splash it all over my hair. My face.

I’m still smiling like a moron putting my shirt on.

“Looks like somebody had a good work out.”

“ _Ah!_ ” I yelp back. “What the – _Whoa!_ ”

Katara’s standing on the sand, with some cooking pots on one hand and the other doing a poor job covering the small smile on her face; pleased that she startled me.

“Good morning!”

“You scared the crap out of me!” I say, instinctively gliding my eyes over her. (Her exposed shoulders and bare stomach.)

“You’re…” the words glide from my lips, “… wearing… Fire Nation clothes.”

I sound like a total idiot.

Katara doesn’t calls me out on it, though. She smiles even more pleased.

“Thanks for noticing,” she spins in place to show off the scarlet red silk robe she’s wearing. “We – Aang, Sokka, Toph and I – got ourselves some clothes for camouflage before the Invasion.” Pause. “Don’t ask how we got them.”

“Uh-huh,” I nod, still dumbfounded and with all my thoughts muddy, incapable of forming complete sentences.

Hell, I knew Katara was curvy but… I never imagined… Not that I had any right to imagine – Not that I _wanted_ to imagine in the first place, I just… _Ugh!_

Damn, her breasts look _amazing_ in that top she’s wearing. Large, but round. Perky. Her skirt hugs her curvaceous hips tightly, irremediably driving the attention to them. _All_ of her skin looks _beautiful_. Soft-looking. Glowing.

Attracting.

“Zuko?”

I blink, almost yelp again.

Pass a hand down my face. “Sorry, sorry! I was… um… I…”

Katara arches an eyebrow, then looks down briefly.

She returns her gaze to me slowly, a smirk forming on her face. (A somewhat slightly _too_ knowing one.)

“Never mind,” she says. “Can you help me fill these pots with some water to boil, please? I need it for making breakfast.”

“Sure,” I take them when she hands them to me.

There’s a dark mark on the back of her hand, it’s almost black but mixed with her brown skin.

“What happened to your hand?” I ask.

“Oh! Right!” She retreats her hand, holding it proudly, caressing the outline of mark – shaped like a crescent moon – with the tip of her fingers as she shows it to me. “It’s my tattoo from my first time ice dodging.”

“Ice what?”

“It’s a rite of passage for young Water Tribe members. It’s normally done when you’re fourteen, but since Sokka and I didn’t get to do it then, a family friend took us at the start of this year,” she explains. “It’s a test of wisdom, bravery and trust. See?” She points to the tattoo on her hand. “This is the mark of bravery.”

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” I say.

“It’s because I always have my leather gloves on,” she replies, her eyes getting lost into thin air.

Her hand continues caressing her tattoo, a little automatically and absently.

 _It must be something very dear for the Water Tribe_ , I think. Even lost into space, Katara looks proud of it. Her cheeks are even blushed a soft, almost coral pink.

It feels a little intrusive that I’m staring at her like this, it’s just that she…

“What?”

Her voice snaps me back to attention.

“Nothing. Sorry.” I pinch the bridge of my nose trying to re-accommodate my thoughts. “It’s just that… you look pretty.”

 _You look pretty_. What am I, in kindergarten?

“ _Awwwww!_ ” Katara coos. “Thank you! That’s what that _‘whoa’_ was about?”

I turn two shades redder than her top.

“I… I… It was… an involuntary _‘whoa’_! You surprised me! I was…”

She giggles. And studies me with that strange knowledge that I can’t quite decipher, raking her eyes down all of my body. It’s like she could tell exactly what I’m thinking even when not even _I_ know.

“Don’t worry.” She takes her eyes through me one more time. “I get what you mean.”


	4. Fantasizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara is having SOME inappropiate thoughts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, you would tell me if I sucked at writing smut without plot, right?

**Katara**

“So. Are you sleeping with Zuko now?”

“ _Suki!_ ” I gape at her.

“What? You’re the one that’s been ogling him all morning.”

“I haven’t!”

“Yes, you have.” (I didn’t realize the conversation was _soooo_ interesting that Toph would quit sipping her coconut milk for chipping in.) “I can tell for the way your pulse just _shoots up_ every time you look at him.”

“It doesn’t ‘shoots up’ every time I look at him!” _Only when I start picturing him without his shirt on._

Fine, and when I stare at his throat for too long.

 _And_ when I start roaming the lines of his biceps with my eyes. (They are soft and hard-looking at the same time.)

And when I watch his Adam’s apple bobble when he drinks water, and…

“Check it out! It’s happening again!”

I shake the dreaminess out of my head. ( _Really_ shake it.) ( _Ouch! That hurt!_ )

“We’re just getting along better,” I press, “that’s all.” 

“Right. Like the way Suki and Sokka get along.”

“And we get along _really_ well,” Suki comments.

“ _Ew, ew, ew!_ ” My entire face crinkles in disgust; I’ve never been as repelled by Suki as I am now. “I do _not_ need to know with whom my brother gets along in _that_ way.”

She giggles. “Sorry, but you get the idea. If Zuko and you are starting to be _anything_ like Sokka and I, that’s a bit… _intriguing_.” Her perfectly delineated eyebrows wag.

 _How did I_ ever _get trapped into this conversation?_

“You two are seeing things – _one_ of you is seeing things,” I clarify before Toph can _blind smart-ass_ me off, “the other is just sensing things wrongly. There’s nothing going on between me and Zuko, and much less in the way things go between you and Sokka.”

“We heard our names!” Speaking of the devil. My obnoxious brother and Zuko himself come to approach us at the entrance’s stairs. “Are you three lovely ladies talking about us?”

My answer is quick, (and I’m decidedly _not_ looking at Zuko), “Nope.”

“Just _somewhat_ not,” Suki says.

“Hey, Sokka,” Toph calls out, “Hypothetical question: How would you react if Katara had a crush in one of your friends?”

I spit my own coconut milk.

Thankfully Suki pats me on the back before I can choke, my cough is dry and now my robe is wet.

Oh, Spirits, and right in front of Zuko! _Soooooooo_ unsexy!

Not that I – 

“A friend? What friend?”

_Geez, big brother! Thank you for concerning that I don’t freaking die for wrongly sipping my drink!_

I bend my former beverage out from the fabric as they keep talking. And hell if I’m not pretending to be as far away from here as possible!

“Whoever. Just a friend.”

“Is it Haru?”

Zuko speaks for the first time after the question: “Haru?” He sounds surprised.

“You didn’t know? He’s Katara’s ex-boyfriend.”

“We had _one_ date!” I retort. “That hardly counts as an ex-boyfriend.”

Sokka shrugs. “So? Suki and I weren’t even dating when she kissed me.”

“It was a goodbye kiss, it barely had anything to do with dating,” Suki replies. “But also: _Awwwwww!_ You remember it!”

I gawk. “Can’t you two leave that for when you’re _alone_?”

“She doesn’t seem very romantic for somebody with a secret crush, Toph,” he says.

“I already told you, it was hypothetical.”

“Where’s Aang?” I query, pushing this exchange away from us.

Zuko’s the one to answer me: “We left him practicing his firebending aim at the beach.”

I should have stuck to my vow of not looking at him; when I do, the thoughts I was having about him last night – about kissing him, and his jaw, and his abs that I can discern for the way his shirt fits around his core, and his pecs that show just a small piece of themselves through the neck of it, and his biceps that still bulge with the smallest of the efforts – make an _awkward_ reappearance.

They kept me awake all night, and I admit I didn’t necessarily complain. (I mean… fantasies are harmless, right?)

Except when they show up at uncalled moments like this one, in front of our friends and my _brother_ of all people, when I shouldn’t be thinking about pressing myself against Zuko – kind of like I did when I went crazy yesterday’s afternoon – and fucking _devour_ his mouth again, but this time with him more willing to respond. (And shirtless, he would also be shirtless.) (And _more_ than willing to respond.) He would be kissing me thoroughly. Frantically. Getting all over me, and I would rove my hands _all_ over his torso. And then I would undo my top, feeling my skin against his, and then…

“Geez, Katara! Chill!”

I yelp. “What?”

“Your pulse went crazy all of a sudden!” Toph says. “I just stopped you before you had a seizure!”

“And you looked hella flushed,” Sokka observes.

My hands dash to cover my cheeks; they are _ablaze_. “It was nothing.”

The sounds of the beach _don’t_ quieten everybody’s loud inquisitiveness focused on _me_.

Suki’s fingernails drum over the staircases. “Does anybody wants to go grab a bite at the kitchen?” her question is casual.

Sokka’s face shifts from curious to drooling. “I do! You know I’m always hungry.”

“ _Yes_ ,” she remarks, “I _do_.” And side glances to me complicitly.

The heat in my cheeks grows.

“I’ll go, too,” Toph, smirking and elbowing me softly on the side.

I get what they’re doing.

_Shit!_

“What was all that about?” Zuko wonders once the three of them get inside the house leaving us alone.

Playing dumb seems like a good answer to it. “What was what about?”

For a second, it looks like he is about to push on the subject, but lets it go at the end. “So…” he scratches the back of his head “You and Haru, huh?”

I sigh. “You heard what I said, it was only _one_ date, and I got him into prison afterwards. That kinda puts you in the ‘let’s better just be friends’ list.”

“Right,” the word clicks between his teeth, “I didn’t know you liked guys with mustaches.”

I shrug, absently. “I don’t, really. He hadn’t grown the mustache back then.”

“Oh.”

Awareness stuns me. “Why do _you_ want to know if I like guys with mustaches?”

He blushes. (Of all things, he _blushes_!) “Nothing! No reason! I was just wondering, you didn’t seem like the type – Not that I was making assumptions! Not that it was my place to make assumptions! I – ”

“Zuko, Zuko,” I say, “ _Relax_.”

Now it’s his turn to sigh. It’s more embarrassed than anything. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I concede. “And just out of curiosity… what _type_ did it look like I was?”

Blushing again. “I… um…”

“The type that likes guys with dark hair?” I offer. “Because I _like_ guys with dark hair.”

My eyes follow his fingers as they reach for his hair bangs.

I smirk. “Or tall guys. I like them more if they’re tall.”

His blush turns darker but not unflatteringly so, only more pronounced. It goes from reddish pink to full carmine. It makes his eyes shine brighter, his skin to look softer.

“And I also like them more when they’re fit,” I say. “I like guys with muscles.”

He flexes his arms (a little involuntarily) in front of my attentive stare. (I’m doing the thing of trailing the line of his muscles.) (His skin is shiny with sweat and beach dew.)

“I…” he trails off, “I’m going to go check how Aang is doing.”

And just like that, he does so.

If it was for trying to escape me, it didn’t work so well. Not considering I’m only left behind tracing the squaring of his shoulders instead, down through his back – which’s marked muscles are noticeable beneath his shirt – and even further down to his equally muscled, taut ass.

I sigh.

Prop my chin on my palm.

Quick question: Am I attracted to Zuko?

_Yes._

Then what am I going to do about that?

I _know_ he’s attracted to _me_ after this morning, and this little chit-chat of ours…

And _what_ am I going to do about that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I need your help. Please, check out the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com


	5. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is more broken than what he looks like, and Katara is the first to find out.

**Zuko**

My fingers slowly trace the crinkly, pale line over my chest. (It’s an automatic motion, more of a bad habit than anything else.) Sometimes I wonder why I keep doing this. Touching my scars, the ones aside the one of my face. Why do I keep acknowledging my father by doing so?

It’s not like I can run away from them, they’re parts of my skin.

They’re my skin as a whole, damaged and deformed; just like my father is my blood, corrupted and cruel. I wonder if he felt anything – (anything _at all_ ) – seeing me bleeding each time he beat me up. Seeing his own blood spilled.

I think that, in a way, I can understand his reasoning. It didn’t matter if only a half of his blood was spilled, Azula was still there and not only did he never touch her, but she could also protect herself.

I couldn’t, I was a common child; soft. Gentle.

Breakable.

Groaning, I pull at my hair. Hard. And stare down at my own exposed core.

The whitish, rucked scratches give me nausea. So do the yellowy, reddish patches of skin. (I _really_ hate taking off my shirt.)

My bedroom’s door opens. “Zuko, are you…”

“Katara!” I yank my discarded shirt from a corner of the bed, panicky. Try to fucking put it on without fucking tearing it! “Don’t you ever _knock_?”

She stands in the doorframe, somewhat shocked. Frozen. The light from the hallway creates a golden halo around her against my dark room.

“Didn’t think about it,” she says. “Sorry.”

I tsk.

Her stare is not all that much surprised.

Well, a little, yes, but it’s also too tender to be. It’s more like understanding, and slightly curious. Sympathetic more than anything.

For once I wish she would stop being her compassionate self. I don’t want anybody asking questions about this. I don’t want anybody’s pity. Much less hers.

“Was there anything that you wanted?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, further covering me. (For rushing it I couldn’t properly accommodate my shirt. The neck is still too open, fully showing my sternum along with a few of the bruises over my ribs.)

Katara shrugs. “Not really. It’s just that, since everybody else went out tonight, I was wondering if you wanted to do anything.”

I look away. “Sorry, I am… busy.”

“I see,” she mutters.

The silence is long and cutting afterwards, like a blade resting statically but threateningly over a human palm.

Katara does not move from her spot at the door, and I continue avoiding to look at her. I’m afraid of what I’ll see reflected myself in her, afraid of the image of me in her eyes. Too vulnerable. Too unprotected.

The room grows hot and uncomfortable; the quietness becomes more hurtful, steely. Choking.

“What happened to you?”

Katara’s question changes the atmosphere, but doesn’t breaks it.

“Nothing,” I reply. “I… had an accident once. While training.”

“It looks like it was a lot of damage for only one accident.”

I shrug.

“Maybe I can help,” she comes closer, when I raise my gaze I meet her blue eyes already in front of me, mere inches from my face. The light and the moonbeam reflect in them. They’re sparkling. 

“What?”

“I’m a healer, remember?”

“I thought we agreed scars don’t heal.”

“I never got the chance to try,” she says, “And I don’t have my Spirit Water anymore, but maybe…”

Her gaze wanders through my torso including the piece of my exposed skin. Not disgusted, or appreciatively, or even pitying, just… meditatively.

I look away once more. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t… I don’t really like people touching my scars. It makes me… anxious. I have trouble staying still.”

“I can help with that, too,” her answer is simple, trusting. “Just relax.”

Her hands appear on my shoulders. Like a tic, my eyes snap close and I tense as if in pain. My muscles jump and beat under her touch.

Even with that, Katara does not back down. Keeps her hands on me instead, coercing my body to get accustomed to her tact.

Her hands are small and shapely.

I breathe out.

Leisurely, she follows the path of my clavicle, slipping her palms underneath my shirt’s opening, lingering there.

I stand still, feeling the coldness grow as Katara pushes the fabric down through my arms; the tips of her fingers brush against my skin, drawing my muscles, so faintly it’s barely even a touch. She stays there just a tad too long, until she climbs up settling her palms over my pecs.

“You’re still tense,” she points out, voice contemplative.

“Told you.”

“Relax,” she repeats, emphasizing, gliding her palms through my chest, further coaxing me to loosen up.

I feel my lungs expanding and emptying with a deep breath.

With my eyelids closed, I get to sense everything about Katara; her hot breathe stroking my chin and throat, the silky fabric of her top almost touching my bare skin. Her hands are soft in a strange way, they’ve minor callosities and scratches, (probably for all the fights she has had to endure), but they exude so much welcoming warm it’s nearly overwhelming.

My muscles ease unhurriedly, at the same pace Katara resumes wandering my core. Her fingers snake down my ribs, only fluttering over the bruises there, curving through my stomach, grazing my abs. It makes me shudder.

For moments it feels like the contact becomes too much, and I tense again. She stops. I breathe.

“Stay still,” she says.

The water waves out of her vial and covers my skin.

The healing feels good, but still ineffective. The skin does not regenerates.

“It’s not working, is it?”

“Give it a few more moments.”

I almost smile at her insistence. And her muttering _“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon”_ through her teeth.

Another shudder shakes me, the hairs on my arms stand up.

“You okay?” her voice turns concerned.

“Yes,” I say, finally opening my eyes, meeting hers once again. (They’re not only sparkling but fully radiating with the bluish light of her healing.) “It’s just cold.”

 _You’re warm_.

It’s hard to tell who leans into the other first, it seems like we do so at the same time. Katara’s lips part…

“Hey, guys! We’re back!”

We jump away from each other just as Sokka, Suki, Toph and Aang pass through the hallway in front of my door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need your help. Please, check out the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com


	6. “I almost kiss you.”/Sexual Tension/“Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Katara finally get to talk alone. Things escalate quickly...

**Zuko**

I splash more water on my face.

_Gotta clear my head._

And then some more.

_Gotta keep it together._

Last night with Katara was… It… It was… Nothing really happened, right? There’s no reason for me to make a big deal out of it. We can brush it off. I mean, that’s what friends do, right? (Wait, _are_ we friends yet?) I groan.

Is it okay for me to be so frantic about this? I mean, Katara was acting pretty unbothered after that. Maybe I’m just getting worked up over something I really shouldn’t…

But it feels like I _really_ should!

Aren’t we supposed to _talk_ about that? What even _was_ that?

No, wait. Perhaps I’m only imagining things. What if we didn’t _actually_ almost kiss? Back at the moment, I was sensitive over someone else touching my scars, my perception of things was clearly compromised. As far as I could tell, I was only leaning towards her… _And_ I just made things worse for myself.

What if _I_ was the one who tried to kiss _her_?

Oh, Spirits! I’m the worst; I have to apologize.

No, first I have to figure out what the actual hell happened last night!

I get out of my bath and go dress.

The door of my room opens yet again. “Hey, Zuko!”

“ _Ah!_ ” I take another towel and cover my chest. “You’re still not knocking!” I yell at Katara.

She stands in the doorframe, not looking the tiniest bit apologetic. She only covers her obvious smile with her hand, her eyes glint despite how slanted they are. Her cheeks are flushed.

“Sorry,” she doesn’t _sound_ sorry. She uncovers her mouth despite keeping the grin. “I’m not used to it.”

“Could you make an effort to remember it next time?” I fight to keep my voice as level as possible.

“Sure!”

Somehow the look with which she scans me afterwards is longer than her answer, her mouth slowly forms a wickedly playful smirk. Her eyes now shine to the fullest.

“Breakfast will be ready soon!” her cheery, singsong voice is so abrupt I’m taken aback. “I’m making those hotcakes that you like!”

And just like that, she exits my room.

 _What was_ that _?_

**Katara**

“Why you so chirpy today?” Suki is attentively studying my face while I blend some more hotcake mix.

“For nothing,” I say, grinning, “Can’t I just feel happy?”

“It’s a lot of work to do hotcakes in such an unequipped kitchen,” she observes after a suspicious hum, “Why did you decide to prepare these all of a sudden?”

My smile broadens, “I just thought it would be nice.”

Her eyes narrow, further wary.

Zuko steps into the kitchen. “Hey.”

“Good morning!” I beam, stepping away from the counter and Suki.

Her voice is almost imperceptible to me already, “Yeah, good morning.”

“Zuko, you mind tasting this mix for me?” I say.

He shrugs. “Sure, okay.”

“Cool!” I dip a spoon in the mix. “Say ‘ _Ah_ ’.”

If he sees anything weird about my sudden request, he doesn’t show. His mouth opens and I very slickly feed him the mixture. His tongue sweeps the remnants on his upper lip.

“I’m going to excuse myself now – ” ( _What was Suki even doing here again?_ ) “ – I have to go vomit.”

She exits. (I’m glad, but I still glare at her back.)

“What was that about?” Zuko – bless his obliviousness – wonders.

“Nothing,” I say, still glaring, “Forget her.”

“Aang hasn’t woken up yet?”

“No, I went to wake him up, but I’m pretty sure he went back to sleep.”

“I’m going to wake him, we need to start training early.”

He runs off before I get to say _anything_ else.

_Seriously? After I went through all the work of making his favorite breakfast?_

“Smooth, Katara,” Suki’s head peeks through the doorframe, “You really _are_ your brother’s sister.”

“Geez, Suki. If you wanted it _so_ bad to have hotcake mix spilled over your hair, _you could just have said so_.”

***

**Zuko**

Okay, so, I haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to Katara yet. I’ve been pretty caught up with Aang’s firebending lessons. (It would be easier if he could just stop wandering around whenever _anyone_ turns his back on him!)

Now _I’m_ the one wandering around the house, looking for Katara. (It’s pretty late already, though, she’s probably asleep by now…)

We both stop dead on our tracks once we spot each other on the courtyard’s walkway. The light from the lamps above us colors her skin golden brown.

Katara’s the first one to break the astonished silence: “Hey!”

“Hey,” I say, coming closer.

“How was firebending today?”

“Great. Aang’s getting better, and he wants to advance fast.”

“Yeah, he’s always been… an enthusiastic student.”

“Yeah…”

The silence is awkward. (Oddly _more_ awkward than usual for me, and that’s saying something.) The sounds of the night insert in it but don’t fill it, we just stand there highly aware of each other’s presence trying to figure out what to do with it. (This is _very_ awkward.)

“I… um…” I clear my throat, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, about…”

“About…” she presses.

“Um…” ( _Why is it getting hotter in here?_ ) “About what happened last night.”

Katara doesn’t smirk, but she wants to. “Which was…”

“I…” (I’m panting.) “I almost kiss you.”

“Oh, right. That.”

“Yeah…” (Maybe I could ask her to throw some waterbending at me.) “I… I wanted to apologize because… I know we don’t have… _that_ kind of… relationship, and… I know our… friendship is still kind of hesitant, and… I didn’t want to ruin things like that… Um… Which reminds me… I’ve been wondering… if we are friends. Officially, I mean. I… I just… don’t want to step out of line and… stuff.”

She’s smirking now, but shyly. It’s strange the way she looks so in harmony standing against the night like she belonged to it but she was light on her own. Suddenly it seems that the jungle and the beach’s noises came from the stars themselves just to accompany her silence.

“You’ve been so troubled just to say you’re sorry and ask if we’re friends?”

“Yes, I have.”

She hums slowly. “That’s sweet.”

Her eyes find mine speedily, hook themselves with my gaze. It’s so potent I almost tremble. “Of course we are friends, Zuko.”

(I was panting earlier, now I can’t breathe.) “Great!”

It goes back to just being awkward once I open my mouth.

“I… um… I… That… That was pretty much everything I wanted to ask. Um... Sorry for the bother, I guess we’ll... better go to sleep.”

Her eyes never leave mine; I’m fully trembling. “Sure…” ( _Were we standing this close all along?_ ) Her breath hits against my neck whenever she speaks, “ _friend_.”

I grind my teeth.

“Right,” the word clicks between them. “I… better… go.”

That’s what I _intend_ to, at least, but it feels… erroneous to leave this moment right now.

I turn around, then back to her again, my mouth opened uselessly. Before I get to say anything, she asks:

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”

I do.

**Katara**

Zuko’s hands come around my face, tipping my head back for my lips to meet his.

I feel like I’m drowning, like my throat and my lungs are on fire; I can’t breathe. Or rather I won’t be able to if I stop kissing Zuko. So I don’t. My hands cling to his shirt and pull him closer, I’m feeding myself from him.

It takes me a few seconds to realize I’m not drowning, I’m flying. Too close to the sun, too high to get oxygen.

Too frenzied.

My arms tangle around Zuko’s neck and my fingers dig in his hair, clenching my fist in it to regain a share of realness, of gravity. Despite the feral of the kiss, he’s soft. His hair, his skin, his lips even while they ravish my mouth; it makes me shiver.

I pull him even closer, consuming the sensation; the heat, the tight air, the roughness of his features, of his clothes against my exposed skin becoming hypersensitive.

I keep flying higher, growing giddy, but more desperate for air that I continue to get out of Zuko. I’m slowly losing track of my senses. My head’s tickling and growing foggier, my chest and my skin hotter.

“Hey, guys.”

Our mouths rip away from each other at the sound of Toph’s voice.

She’s _just_ passing by, _very calmly_ sipping her drink. “Don’t get me wrong, I assume _you_ are the experts on this, but… you may want to get a room. There’s plenty inside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! And also, if you want to find out ways to help me to keep writing, please visit the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com


	7. Pining/“I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not you, Katara; it's Zuko. He needs to stop making a fuss out of everything!

**Zuko**

I am not going to sleep tonight.

I am _vowing_ to not sleep tonight, my mind has done nothing but plays tricks on me lately, I do not trust it to wander during my sleep. (Uncle was wrong, growing a very inconvenient attraction to one of my friends and then kiss her _twice_ has been the biggest mistake I have made in the twenty years I have been alive!)

My head falls to my hands and my elbows dig into my knees, (it isn’t much of an improvement from just sitting on my bed staring into the dark, but at least I’m now resting my eyes.) What the hell am I even doing, I finally befriend Katara, and then I add sex to the mix? Well, not so much as sex ( _yet_ ), just my dirty, _dirty_ mind. 

Spirits, I need a drink!

And I know _where_ to find it.

My steps sound dull over the wood floor, giving away my path towards the kitchen. At least there is something my family was quite traditional at: hiding the wines on the highest shelves. The children are not able to reach them until they turn twenty when the wine is at its finest point. (Best parenting advice _ever_.)

I am not really a drinker, though, so I just pick a random bottle.

A part of me wishes I could go back on time to tell 10-year-old me that one day he would be able to get to the top shelves; the other part is only sad because the _me_ from then would have ran to tell 8-year-old Azula so the two of them could celebrate. We made plans on growing up fast together.

I pour the wine into a cup and take a small sip. It immediately prickles the inside of my mouth.

If current Azula was here, she would mock me for taking such a small nip “because only cowards don’t swallow it in one gulp”. She would have told me I have a horrible taste whatsoever and, furthermore, that _this_ particular cabinet of wines was for the _wanted_ children.

 _Yeah, yeah, I love you too, sister_ , I think bitterly, taking a greater gulp.

Curiously, the idea that this was for the “ _wanted_ children” only motivates me to drink more, and more avidly on top of that.

_As for you, Dad; you can go to Hell._

“Are we celebrating something tonight?”

I am not sure what kind of juggling I make to keep the cup from falling to the floor, but I catch it.

Katara tries not to laugh from the kitchen’s entrance. She is wearing her white sarashi, her legs and shoulders are beautiful – I mean, _shapely_.

The weak moonlight colors her skin differently, a bit like she was a Spirit herself.

Her loose hair is soft-looking.

Perhaps it is that I am finally over her surprise entries, but my voice is even when I ask: “What is it with you and magical appearances?”

“It’s not magic. Maybe you’re just not paying that much attention.” Despite the shadowiness of the room, I can see her eyebrow arching. “Not that you could if you’re… uh...”

“I am not drunk if that is what you are wondering,” I conclude for her. “I have only had two glasses.”

I fill another one and swallow it in one gulp. “Okay, make it three.”

“I never imagined you were a drinker.”

“I am not, I just needed something to help me… think.”

“Thinking and alcohol don’t get along well,” she says. “Can I have some?”

**Katara**

I half-tiptoe rushing to sit on the kitchen’s counter as Zuko takes another cup from the shelves next to me and serves me some wine. Even with the increased height, I’m still just beneath eye-level with him. The awareness of it hits me when our eyes meet as he hands me the drink, he has to look slightly down to find my gaze. Neither of us let go after it.

“So…” I murmur, hiding into my cup, “What was all that thinking that was causing you trouble?”

He takes some moments to answer, finally not looking at me but at the floor. (Did I mention he’s shirtless?) (The moonlight creates shadows down the trail of his abs; _that’s_ how pronounced they are.) “Nothing important, really. Then I came here and suddenly it was a _great_ idea to get back at my family by drinking their wines.”

“Mmmmm,” I hum, before drinking in one swig and holding the currently-empty cup contemplatively. “Well, this one _is_ good wine.”

“Didn’t know you were a drinker, either.” If I was crazy – or drunk – I would say his tone is joking.

“It just happens that lately I’ve received a _lot_ of invitations for dinners with the Earth Kingdom monarchs and generals, and you know what they say: a glass of wine in each doesn’t hurt anyone.”

(The frown I see on his face isn’t one of jealousy… is it?) “Right.”

We’ve experience with the kind of silence that follows, so it’s better to just skip that part.

“About earlier tonight…” I start.

Zuko bites his lip. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

He takes both of our cups to refill, I study him as he does. He is pretty broad-shouldered and his arms all build with the same amount of solid muscle – which is a lot. The whitish-blue light and shadows dance across his face, almost like they were painting it. Like he was part of an artistic piece. 

“I think I have been stepping out line lately,” he explains.

I want to laugh. “Zuko, _I’m_ the one that kissed you the first time. And then _I_ was the one that prompted you to kiss me the second time. Now that I mention it, I feel like I’ve been taking advantage of you.”

“You haven’t,” he returns my drink, “I’m responsible for my own actions. That is one of the concepts for redemption and all.”

I giggle.

“Mayhap we should set some boundaries,” he says, leaning against the counter, shoulder to shoulder with me.

Something ties my stomach into a knot.

“It’s that what you want?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

I can’t bring myself to say the answer that threatens to leave my mouth, it’s too intimate, too open. _I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking._ Because I _have_ , I have seen that longing on Zuko’s eyes when they wander and settle my way ever since I hated him, and then since I made so much effort to hate him, I saw it – or I _think_ that I did. And I can’t admit it, I can’t afford to be wrong.

“Never mind,” I say, “Boundaries, huh? As far as I see, the only one stop-signs we should put is for kissing.”

“And for entering other people’s rooms without knocking.”

“Ha-ha,” I deadpan. “No kissing then. It’s cool, friends aren’t supposed to kiss.”

 _Friends_.

That’s what Zuko and I are. What we will _always_ be, apparently.

“Good.”

“Good.”

Stupid awkward silences!

“I guess I should leave you to have another of your midnight-thinking sessions,” I push myself down from the counter. “Thanks for the drinks, though. Make sure to leave some for when we win the war.”

“Nah, don’t worry about that,” he takes another swallow, “There is many more in the cabinets.”

“Great. Good night then.”

“Night.”

**Zuko**

The moonbeam seems to follow Katara to wherever she steps, and it leaves an aura of mysticism and gentle coolness behind, it is Katara’s humanity – Katara alone – what makes it warm and approachable… And I’m watching her go away.

Letting her do so, pushing yet someone else away so I can be abandoned alone in the shadows.

Typical.

 _Self-punishing idiot_.


	8. Wet dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just so Zuko knows what he's missing...

**Zuko**

Katara’s hair is splayed over the red silk sheets. My eyes rake all her uncovered skin delighting in its strikingly warm brown color, nearly golden like she was gold. The sun. 

A shiver runs through her when my fingertips graze her bare stomach and she giggles musically, but it sounds distant like I only heard it from far, far away. Yet, her arms come around my neck and she is here, present, pressing our foreheads together. And then she kisses me. Suddenly she is not only the sun and its beam but the entire sky and Heaven.

The silk under my back – my bare back (when did I take off my clothes?) – is soft, but Katara’s softer, and I decide I don’t care whenever I took off my clothes.

My palms glide up through her, holding on to her ribcage, settling at the sides of her breasts as she lays on top of me and kisses me non-stop.

Somehow everything is slow and adrenaline-rushing, I can feel Katara’s nipples stiffening little by little against my pecs, her kisses turning deeper, more thorough; more affectionate, so much that I gasp – I _really_ gasp. She takes the chance to let go of my mouth and kiss my cheek, my jawline, my neck, and then move down through my body kissing each one of my scars. Her plump lips caress the wrecked skin and it feels so good it _hurts_.

I groan, clenching my fists on the sheets as she goes downer; I would repeat her name over and over again, like a plea, if I could even think coherent words; if I had any strength left to force myself to talk.

I am frozen, helpless; and I am loving every second of it.

Katara’s kissing, and licking, and biting at my abs and hipbone; and…

I’m not sure how is it that I wake up, is as if I want to scream out of anger and surprise.

Somebody is knocking on the door of my room. (My room at Ember Island. Where I am… alone.) “Zuko, breakfast is ready.”

_Shit! Who makes a vow for not sleeping and then fucking breaks it?_


End file.
